Care, always.

“Can you please come to my home quickly! Dadi isn’t feeling well and I am worried”. That is how it all had started. Amar’s message. Over a year back. We both had met two years ago at a gym. Through casual chatting, we knew that we were neighbours. He lived in the block next to mine. Amar was a student of business management. He had been living in the city for three years now. His father had his textile firm in his hometown. Instead of letting him live in a hostel, Amar’s parents decided that it would be best if he lived in a rented flat. After a few weeks Amar’s grandma too came to live with him so as to cook and care for him.

Amar’s grandma – the sweetest, wisest woman I had ever met. Having lost my grandparents in very early childhood, I was deprived of that pampering and care that comes from our senile elders. She would often cook my favourite dishes and would either invite me or over or have them sent over. She was of good health generally except for old age problems. She was a diabetic patient and since my father was one too, I used to keep inquiring about her diet. I often persuaded her to go for a walk in the evening and at times even accompanied her on those walks. Amar’s message that day scared me. I had lost my parents. The thought of losing a close elder one ... I rushed to his flat. Amar had already called an ambulance. I quickly made a sugar and lemon concoction and administered it to her. She had probably fainted due to drastic low sugar levels. The ambulance came, took her away and I also went to the hospital. For three days and four nights Amar and I took turns in sitting beside her at the hospital. His parents came from town and stayed for a week. After she was discharged, Amar’s parents went back. She refused to go with them as she was worried about Amar. I then convinced them that I will look after her. And I did. It was a very small price to pay for the love and affection that I received from her. She would just have to look at me to know something was not right with me.

Post her stay in hospital, she had become weaker. Her medical test results were also worrying. I suggested she go back to her hometown. To which she said “I can’t choose the manner or time of my death. Let me dare and choose the place.” And then one hot May evening, she passed away. In her sleep. Perhaps the most peaceful way to go. But the mental agony of never being able to her voice, to see her, to feel her hand upon my head ... That had put my peace in turmoil. I had cared for her like I did for my mother and she loved me as if I was her daughter. Constantly calling and checking up on her and dropping in to see her ... And now she had gone. Her cremation and death rituals were performed by Amar and his father. And then twenty days later, her lawyer called me and asked me to be present at the reading of her will. Not thinking much of it except something that she would have wanted me to do. It was, to put it mildly, shocking. Amar’s grandma had bequeathed me eight lakh rupees. She had mentioned her ancestral riches to me. Three houses, lot of gold, some land. But I had never given much thought to it. And today, this “gift” was unexpected. After the meeting was over I decided to take leave. A few days later I received a letter from Amar’s father’s lawyer. He had challenged the will and claimed I was bequeathed the amount when grandma wasn’t in sound health and also that I may have taken advantage of the proximity and attachment to her and persuaded her to do so. I was aghast! I went to Amar’s flat and showed it to him. The claim letter wasn’t as shocking as his response.

“It was very mean of you to do this”.

“Amar, are you out of your mind? Do you even realise what are you saying? I cared because I loved, not because I sought to gain anything. Had I known that she was to leave me this money I would have myself asked her not to.”

“Shut up and stop the drama. You took advantage of her ill-health, of our reliance upon you. Let the court deal with this now.”

I had gone numb. A motive was being sought in my care and concern. “I am sorry if that is what you think. I will give back the money to you as i receive it. I will go to the court and sign an affidavit, promising to keep my word.”

And I left. That was few weeks back. Time had refused to numb the sting of Amar’s words. I was scarred. I received the amount and keeping my word, wrote a cheque for the same in favour of Amar’s father. I had it dispatched by courier. And came home. Seeking a moment of closure. The mobile beeped and I checked the messages which preceded a couple of missed calls. Tanvi had messaged me. I read. And I froze.

“Di, can you please come home quickly? Mom isn’t feeling well. I don’t know what to do.”

Yes, that is how it all had started a year back ... I just fell on the sofa. Did I have it within me to go through all this again? What if my care was thrown back on my face again? What if an ulterior motive was sought in my actions again?

To answer Tanvi or not ... Well, what do you think I must have or should have done?

Friend?

Frothy waves of the sea ... teasing the shore and scampering back. Reminded me of my childhood when I used to ring my neighbour’s doorbell and run away before anyone could open the door. All its mightiness and yet the sea did behave like an impish child at times.

We were building sandcastles by the sea. Aryan and I. I was making a horrible house while he was making a fine fort. Awful attempt of mine, earnest effort of his.

“Aryan! I can’t seem to get the walls right. It isn’t fair that your fort is coming out so well. Help me with my home.”

Without looking up, he said “No.”

“You heartless cold creature!”

“Thanks!”

“Why do you take pride in being called an iceberg?”

“Saves me from unnecessary drama. The less you care, the less you are hurt. An attitude that you really need to adopt.”

I just sat helplessly and stuck my tongue out at him.

Sensing it somehow, he said “Yes, see! That child inside you isn’t letting you build your sand house properly.”

In what I hoped was a sad voice, I said “You won’t help me? Is that what friends are for?”

He looked up at me. “Friends? Is that ... Is that just what we are? Wow!” And he continued with his fort.

“Ummm ... But then what are we?”

I don’t know why and how but the moment just paused in the air. I couldn’t pin it. His hands were busy and yet I could sense his mind being busy elsewhere. I didn’t say anything further. After nearly half an hour, we both had finished our architectural attempts with the sea sand. And we were now perhaps thinking of appropriate words to break the uneasy silence. What could be said that wouldn’t be ... and a dog came and scrambled our thoughts. I mean the ‘sandcastles’! We both broke up in laughter! An hour of handwork all ruined in a few seconds.

I smiled and said “Ok Aryan, I had better get going. “

“Sure. Take care. See you.”

And we parted ways.

Aryan and I had got acquainted with each other on a social networking site. From sharing opinions to jokes, discussing current affairs and occasionally some gossip as well, our chats never restricted themselves to any particular topic. What I liked most about his was his practical nature, nonchalant attitude and the most remarkable, his wit. Over time, the jokes shared between us got raunchier and ever so slowly the curtain that keeps the formal separate from the candid slipped off. I now discussed almost everything with him. All my worries, beau troubles. He listened patiently and somehow that made all the difference. Telling him my troubles made them vanish from my mind. He too shared his work schedules, his girlfriend and family matters with me. And then one day, we met. At a cafe.

He was the tall, dark and handsome guy of any girl’s dreams. For all his wit and talk, he was even better in person. I thought of all the personal things I had shared with him and my face coloured, much to his amusement. We talked and laughed and enjoyed our time together. Each time that he spoke of his girlfriend his eyes twinkled up and each time that his eyes twinkled up they touched my heart. I don’t know why. As if his smile was a candle flame and my heart was a mirror. I told him of my boyfriend, his fickle childish nature and he laughed, though I don’t know if at me or at my boyfriend.

Over the span of a few months, circumstances had changed. He was still with his girl while I had broken my heart, nursed it back and was moving on with life. And we met a few more times. Like today. But today was different. I couldn’t answer him. He was more than a friend. But then what do you call someone who is more than a friend? Given all its words, the vocabulary failed me.

I reached home and kept my handbag on the table. The mobile buzzed and I picked it. Aryan had messaged me. And as usual, as ever, as always, his message brought a smile on my lips.

I don’t know whether you will agree with him or not but his message read “Accomplice? :P” 

Better?

I tucked the ticket away carefully in my wallet and placed the wallet in my handbag. My handbag was really a universe on its own ... filled with a hundred ‘important’ objects that I was quite sure I will find useful someday.

Everything was packed. I was leaving without informing friends and relatives. I never really liked farewells. All the sentimentalism, tears, pleas of “please don’t go” ... heartwarming for sure but also felt like shackles around the feet of my aspirations. “The thread of attachment ... Neither does it snap nor can be discarded.” I had told him though. And now it seemed like a mistake on my part.

Almost as if he sensed himself in my thoughts, he came.

“Still being stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Look! Please try to understand. I cannot live in this city anymore. It has started suffocating me, my thoughts, my imagination ... “

“For five years you didn’t seem to have any problem with this city.”

“True. I had no problem with this city till now. But now this place doesn’t give me what I desire as a writer. I want to improve myself, to better myself. I want to be a better writer.”

“Raina, I can’t understand ... “

“... What I am trying to say, right? I now find the lanes and the people of this city dull and used. They don’t inspire me for stories anymore as I think I have written a story on almost all the aspects of this city. I have squeezed it dry and extracted as much as I could from the houses, shops, gardens, streets, parks, people ... Nothing inspires me anymore here. I want to move on. To be better. The people ... “

“The people? I am also one of those ‘people’. And so are your friends and relatives.”

“Yes. And now they all have a certain slack about them. Call me cold or ruthless but I use people as drafts or moulds on which I base my stories. I have exhausted them all. I now wish to move on to new places and meet new people. I will be able to write differently and better.”

He came closer ... his eyes moist with pleas. “Don’t go Raina, don’t.”

“Please don’t stop me. I want to flow like a river. I don’t want to become stagnant like a pond. Stagnancy stinks. Just like the river that flows through different banks and remains fresh, I too want to flow through different cities to keep my thoughts fresh as a writer. The day I stop flowing I will become ...”

He snatched my next words with his lips, hugging me tightly in his loving arms. The bond of his arms barred any other sense from entering and I lost myself in him. I could neither see, hear nor speak anything, except for his love. Like fragrance in the air, I too dissolved myself in his passion. The evening was beautiful ... we made it enchanting with our lovemaking.

Next morning at 5:00, just when the alarm was about to ring I quickly shut it. He was sleeping soundly beside me. If he woke up then he would try to stop me again. Gently sliding his arm aside from my waist, I went for a shower and dressed up, being as quiet as possible. I took my bags and looked at him once again ... that curly hair, his lips that touched me with love, his firm hands that touched me beyond my body ...

I picked my handbag and bags and tiptoed out of the house. Hailing a cab, I went to the railway station. With a few more minutes for the train to arrive, I went to the tea shop to have my morning cup of tea. I removed my wallet from the handbag and in the wallet, beside the ticket and money, was a letter.

“Raina, I know you will leave while I must be in deep sleep. My efforts to persuade you to change your mind are all in vain. You kept saying you wanted to better yourself. I wish you could see yourself the way I do ... Because for me you aren’t good or better, you are already the best ever!” 

In my one hand was the ticket. Price - Rupees 560. In the other hand was his letter. Price – love.

Today

He never let me look into his eyes. I kept trying to read into them ... eyes that were as deep as the sea, what did they conceal within the waves? I was perhaps looking for some tangible yet unseen emotion that I sensed from him. Whenever we talked, he never looked in my eyes. Once I playfully told him “I seem to have caught something in my eye. Can you please help?” He blew gently in my eye and looked away before I could look in his eyes.

Whenever we met he used to talk about his work, his schedules, his family, his aspirations ... But whenever I asked him about myself he would just lock his words away within himself. Despite that I enjoyed spending time with him. It was not what we talked about but rather his company that mattered more to me. At times just sitting beside someone is quite fulfilling in itself. A conversation then just becomes a mere accessory to that sense of company.

One evening when we met near the seashore and walked away our discussions of a mundane daily routine, I suddenly slipped and fell. He sat down immediately beside me, touched my ankle and looked into my eyes to ask me “Are you ok? Hurt?”

Yes, finally he looked in my eyes and so did I. And what I saw lifted me and placed me high among the stars ... My heart leapt so high that it felt as if I had crossed oceans in that one single leap. But then it dawned upon me ... his reluctance to express and confess. Our nameless relation didn’t have any tomorrow to it. It was beyond a conclusion ... without a future. And with that realisation I fell in the deep abyss of truth and inevitability.

He now looked away. But I had already seen what I needed to see. We sat quietly beside each other. We may not have a tomorrow with each other but we decided to make the best of today anyway. 

Sent by God

“I am sorry but what can I do?” Lorna spread her arms in the air, looking helpless. “I have to go. Peter cannot pick up Sylvia from the school and I have to pick her up”.

“Yes Lorna, I understand but you had promised ... How am I ever to finish all this by myself?”

She just shook her head and said “I am sorry but I have to go. I will make up for this after the Christmas holidays. Merry Christmas love!”

I just sighed and then smiled at her. “Merry Christmas Lorna! My love to Peter and Sylvia. And don’t worry I’ll finish it off here.”

She beamed her lovely smile at me and left.

I was staring at the paperwork and my computer. I was supposed to leave by 3:00 but I was lucky if I could leave the office before 4:00. Might as well get to the task at hand. I picked up the list of the people whom a personalised message had to be sent by the company ... and I heard Stefan’s cough.

“Why haven’t you left Stefan?”

“Waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to. Look, you won’t be paid overtime for just waiting.”

“No! No! I no do this for money. I wait for you. We leave together. See I already sign my timesheet for 3:00.”

Stefan was a cheerful cheeky Polish immigrant who worked as an office help, though he was mostly assigned menial tasks. He had come to London 6 months back and spoke broken English.

“Stefan! Just leave! Go home!” I said and got back to sending e-mails. Most of them done, now to contact the suppliers ... the clocked ticked away mercilessly ... A few more calls to make ... And it had now started to rain. Drab London weather. It was as if the skies always cried. No wonder many people here suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder...

“You want tea?”

“Stefan! I thought I had asked you to leave!”

“Ya! You want tea?”

“Stefan! Leave right now or else I will have you fired!”

I turned around and got back to putting files and folders away. At 4:15, I looked around the office. Everything done, no work left pending. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but knew that far much more hectic activity awaited me beyond these office doors. I put on my coat, took my bag and umbrella and locked the office door. Will be back after a week of Christmas holidays. I had to renew my travelcard, pick up medicines from the chemist, had to buy some extra gift paper, some groceries ... he had invited his friends yet again for a pre-Xmas dinner ... had to go home and cook ... and I had to face the rush hour commute on the Northern Line .. and my frozen shoulder was playing up very badly. Some holiday it was going to be with all those guests being invited over almost everyday ... I forgot when I had any time for myself ... Giving everyone else no chance to complain and completely neglecting myself ... I craved some time to myself ...

“Ah! You finish!”

“Stefan! You almost gave me a shock there! Why are you still here?” I asked as I was fidgeting with my brolly. He took it from my hand and opened it in a snap. And then handed it back to me.

“Er ... I want to give you something.”

“What Stefan?”

He came close and hugged me ... the hug of a friend. And suddenly I just started crying. Sobbing at first but then warm tears just kept rolling off my cheeks. Stefan just patted me as if I were a small child. “It is okay. You cry, you feel better”.

I felt slightly lighter but foolish too. Stefan gave me his handkerchief. “You better now?”

“Yes. Thank you Stefan. I don’t know what came over me. I was ...”

“No! No! You no explain. I understand. I see your eyes. I know you sad.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t get you”.

“See, when you smile in office only lips smile. Your eyes no smile. No twinkle in eye.”

I just blinked away. I didn’t realise I could be read so easily.

“Stefan, when I asked you to leave so many times, and quite rudely too, why did you stay behind?”

His answer has stayed with me even after all these years. “Ahh that! My mama tell me ‘when someone sad ask you to go away, you never go away. That person need you most. If that person then share his or her sadness, believe my child that the Lord himself send you as an angel to that person. You are blessed by the Lord himself’. I do this for myself ... and see you feel better, no?”

I smiled. I had tears in my eyes but I smiled. The warmth of human compassion which was lost to me had lit a candle inside me. Stefan smiled back. I hugged him and said “God bless you!”

“Ah! Thank you. You take care and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Stefan! Have a safe trip to Poland and give my love to your mama!”

We parted our ways ... He probably feeling as angelic as he was and I ... I was feeling quite light in my heart. Yes I had troubles and responsibilities but to know that God was looking out for me and had sent his angel – the thought cheered me up immensely. I promised to myself that I too would try and be “an angel sent by God” to a person in need of basic human warmth, love and compassion. 

Yes, Stefan’s answer has stayed with me even after all these years.

Finally!

How chaotic! Everyone seems to be in a rush towards fulfilling their specific or unspecific goals in life. Everyone is busy. I wish someone would stop by ... just for me. And then maybe I could tell him or her what burdens my heart ... the burden of grief that lies upon my heart so heavy that it bleeds profusely. The blood is unable to find a vent to flow out and has clotted over, bruising my heart badly. If only I could talk to someone then maybe the clotted blood will flow out as transparent water from my eyes. But everyone is busy and I have no one to share my grief with. Those that aren’t so occupied have no wish to hear my words of sorrow. “You always make us laugh, so go on and tell us some merry tales!” I prefer to keep quiet.

I am standing near the sea.

There is someone as divine as God and I tend to voice my troubles to him. He pretends not to have heard me and hence I have stopped talking to him now. I prefer to keep quiet.

I walk towards the sea.

Sometimes someone does come along and say “I have a moment or so to spare for you. Tell me what burdens you but tell it to me quick”. How am I to unburden a lifetime of almost infinite sorrow in a matter of few moments? So I choose not to say anything. I prefer to keep quiet.

I am now standing at the seashore.

It’s not as if no one at all wants to listen to me. My dear ones do take time out of their hectic schedules and ask me “what is it that bothers you?” I love them far too much to share my grief with them. What if they too have to carry the burden in their hearts once I have shared it with them? No, I could never do that. I prefer to keep quiet.

The waves of the sea lap up excitedly as if they are truly happy to see me. Following the Hindu tradition of honouring the guests by washing their feet, the waves come and touch my feet, washing away some of my sorrow and taking it with them, perhaps unknowingly. Suddenly I feel somewhat lighter in my heart. I smile and tell the sea all my troubles. It listens to me very patiently as it is in no rush to go anywhere. Out of true compassion it hugs me tightly. It lets my tears flow freely knowing that they shall be at one with the seawater.

Ah! There is water everywhere ... going over my head too ... and the sorrow that had burdened my heart for so long finally flows out of me into the sea ... with me. 

Behind You ...

The squirrel kept scurrying from one branch to another – its hectic activity in stark contrast to the peace with which I was watching it, standing beside the kitchen window. The sound of the keys turning in the lock made my eyes follow what my ears heard. You had returned from your morning walk. You kept the bunch of keys on the table and before I could ask “shall I make some tea?” you lit a cigarette and started puffing it. Perhaps you had your tea and breakfast at the local cafe. I kept the two mugs back in the cupboard. I had waited for you to have tea with you. But since you’ve already had it ...

You went in the bedroom, switched on the AC, removed your shirt and hung it on the back of the chair. You then took you notepad and your pen and sat down on the bed ... staring in the air for your thoughts that were probably floating around. I guess you found your particular thought because you started writing passionately on the notepad.

The curtains were drawn and prohibited the lovely morning sunshine from entering the room. You might find it difficult to write in this darkness. I went and opened the curtains ... and the room lit up! But you got off the bed angrily and drew the curtains again, sending the room back into semi-darkness. You then went back to the bed, piled up three pillows, rested your elbow on them and lied down on your side. I came and sat right behind you ... your bare back facing me. Your body is so tempting, so irresistibly tempting! With love I run my hand on your smooth back. But you shrug off my hand. I am beckoning you with love but perhaps you find my love annoying. I have no intention of irritating you but no matter what I do, you get irked. Well then what do I do of my feelings towards you? What do I do about my mind and my heart which constantly think of you? Your deep eyes, your charming face, your lusty lips, your well-chiselled body and, to top it all, the magic that you create with your words ... I am helplessly lost in this web of words that you weave and find myself entrapped and am unable to break free, no matter how hard I try. You have unintentionally hypnotised me with your words, unaware of the turmoil it has caused within my heart and its desires.

I think of all this and with my finger I start writing out my thoughts on your back ... I start writing a poem on you. You keep shrugging and twitching but I don’t know if you are amused or annoyed by the touch of my fingers. If we were facing each other I would have known for sure but since you have turned your back on me I can only guess. Though, to tell you the truth, I find much happiness in this. I am contented with the way things are – you sit with your back turned towards me and keep writing stories while I sit behind you and keep writing poems on you. In fact I dread to see your eyes should you turn around and look at me. What will be there in your eyes for me? Anger? My God and my angels are angry with me as such ... my fate too has been rather ruthless with me ... and if I were to face your anger I would be unable to bear it and hence would die. On the other hand, what if you looked at me with love in your eyes? I have lost everything that I held dear in this world and am too scared to possess anything anymore. I won’t be able to hold your love in my broken heart. I would be unable to bear your love too.

No! Never! Please don’t ever turn around to look at me. Your anger will kill me and your love won’t let me live.

I am contented with the way things are – you sit with your back turned towards me and keep writing stories on paper while I sit behind you and keep writing poems on you.

Love ... wonderful love!

His hair curled so lovingly around his hairline. A few grays here and there. I never let him cut his hair too short. Because I loved running my hands through his hair. His eyes - the love that was mirrored in his eyes whenever he saw me ... Lust? Love? I don't know. But I loved the way he eyed me up. His sharp aquiline nose ... His angular jawline ... It seemed as if God had sculpted him with love, leisure and some wine. Every time I saw him I kept falling in love with him even more. The intoxication of beholding him was so heady! And his lips! Oh his lips! They touched my body with hunger ... igniting desire from deep within my soul. Loved the smell of the sweat that oozed from his body when he made deep lustful love to me ... 
I whispered kisses on his face and his neck. He stirred ... Should I kiss his smooth back? Or should I let him sleep? His neck, his shoulders, his chest ... speckled with my love bites. I ran my finger through the marks my nails had left on his back. "Honey! Your nails!" and I managed to say "Sorry! Can't help it!" and dug them even further as he pushed harder. The thought made me smile and I kissed him on those marks. He stirred again. With sleepy eyes he said "Good morning my cherry! What's the time?"
"Time enough for a morning round" I said as I started kissing his chest while my hands caressed his warm body. He smiled, reached for his phone and sat up straight. "It is 8 already? I have to reach by 9. Oh honey why didn't you wake me up?"
"If I did then I would have cheated myself of these precious minutes ..."
He kissed my forehead and got off the bed. "Please don't cook breakfast for me". And he went for a shower. I went in the kitchen. Put tea on the boil and started cooking omelettes and toast. Strong tea - just the way he liked it. Fluffy cheesy omelettes - just the way he liked them. After all didn't he do things in the bed just the way I liked them?
He came out of the washroom ... towel wrapped around his waist. Seeing him like this makes me go really weak in the knees. To breathe his manliness ... To kiss and taste the salt of his skin ... To hug him so tightly that I could sense his heartbeat ... To wrap my legs around him so tightly ... I felt warm inside. I wish I could rip the towel off his sensual body.
Closed my eyes and went back to getting the breakfast ready on the table. 
"Tea is ready!"
He came and stood behind me, sliding his hands around my waist and kissed my neck ... "Are you sure kissing me there is a good idea, my bijli ka khamba? Especially since you are in a hurry?" He was my Bijli ka Khamba because I found his touch electrifying and it would send little shock waves all over my body.
He laughed and sat down for tea. " I told you not to cook breakfast. Tea would have been fine on its own."
"After squeezing out your energy it is only fair that I compensate and replenish it. Five times in a night and I can't believe you are not hungry." 
He smiled ... That devilish smile!
"Come sit beside me. So, what will you be doing today? Anything special planned?" He asked while buttering the toast.
"Nothing much. Might go to the temple."
"Temple! Why?"
I answered with a twinkle in my eye "To ask for forgiveness from God. For our sins".
But I wish I hadn't said that. For he put his fork down and looked at me with hurt in his eyes. "Tell me - do you think of our relationship as sinful?"
"What? No Manu ... I didn't mean that. I was just joking. Really."
"You know I am not as good with words as you are. And I don't how to express my emotions the way you do. So let me tell you in simple words - you mean the world to me. For each and every moment that I spend with you - whether making love or just being beside you - I am thankful to God." He took my hands and cupped them. "You have given me a reason to live. You have made my life beautiful. I was living before I met you but I started living life after I met you. It is only the fear of losing you that is making me follow your wish of not marrying you. I love you."
I sensed the tremor in his voice. "Manu, I am sorry. No I don't think that what we are doing is sinful. I just know that we love each other truly and passionately. As long as no one knows about us no one is hurt. But if you marry me then we will hurt a lot of people and I don't want this negativity in our relationship. I love you too."
I got up and gave him a back hug. "I thought you had to reach by 9".
"Oh yes!" He got up, hugged me and said "Will message you later".
"What time are Suman and Raghav coming?"
"They will be coming by 10. I am glad she went to Nagpur for a few days. I truly needed a break."
"Don't say that. I am sure she loves you and deeply cares for you", I said albeit a bit cheekily.
He tapped me on my head and said "I bet you are enjoying my misery. As long as it brings a smile on your face my cherry!"
We kissed again. He got in his car and drove off, waving me through the mirror. Leaving me behind with a lovely peaceful smile - a smile that a night of fulfillment brings. He came in my life when I was falling apart ... had gone to pieces. His love glued all the broken parts together and made me stronger. I was an empty decorative earthen pot and he filled me brimful with his love. That love, at times, overflowed from my eyes as tears. Tears of contentment ... Of knowing that someone somewhere always loves me. He soothed my soul whenever he touched me with love. My life is a beautiful musical story because of him. Love didn't mean owning something. Just being there for someone. Why give it a name? Love without trappings ... without boundaries ... Wonderful love!
By the way, Suman is his wife and Raghav is his 8 year old son.

Strength really?

A cold morning. Cold enough to layer up wisely and yet not cold enough to deter me from a morning walk in the park. A morning walk is like a hot cup of tea for my mind. Sat in the park for a while. Saw a dedicated line of ants marching their way ... carrying crumbs, a dead bug. What the ant carries must surely be twice its weight. Strength! Amazing strength!

Strength helps us build. Helps us fight ... Or maybe it leaves us weak?

My neighbour of many years has been living with a demanding husband and caring for a cranky mother-in-law, a woolly-headed father-in-law, two petulant children and other extensions of the family. She never ceases to amaze me. Deals with the people in her life with a patience that is unknown to me. I have seen her cry but only to be greeted with a cheerful smile next time around. Her family demands of her and expects of her the world served on a golden platter, without showing much appreciation for it. How? How does she do it? And why does she do it all for them?

Yesterday I met her at the local temple yesterday after a long time. She knows I go there not as much to bow my head to the superior one but rather to donate old belongings to the charity.
"How lovely to see you after such a long time!"
"Yes. Been away to India. How are you and everyone in the family?"
"Oh they all are fine. Pankaj is going to Germany next week as part of his business expansion".
"Oh ok. And how are you?" I asked again. "You often tend to forget yourself when you care for so many. So tell me have you poisoned your mother-in-law yet?"
She laughed. Her laughter carried the words 'wish I could'.
"You know I have always admired your strength. You cater to your husband's likes and dislikes, wishes and wants. You wait hand and foot on your parents-in-laws only to be told you are doing your duty and that too very unsatisfactorily. Your kids treat you no better. I admire your strength because frankly speaking if I was in your place I would have given a severe tongue-lashing to the hubby, would have fed innocent looking stuffed brinjals with not-so-innocent poison to my in-laws and would have twisted the ears of the little devils till they learnt some manners. I will never know from where do you get the strength to put up with these characters and their follow-ups!"
There! I said it! And she stared. And I thought maybe I should have held back some of the outburst. And yet she still stared. A 'sorry' was inching its way towards my lips ...
"That's strange."
"Strange?"
"Strange because it has been rather me who has been looking up to you and your strength."
"I am sorry but I really didn't get you."
She sighed and said "you live pretty much on your own. You earn and spend it on your family. No one to ever buy anything for you ever. You cook and eat on your own. No one to ever ask you if you have had your meal and no one to cook a meal of your preference. No one to treat you to a movie or an outing.You alone make all the decisions with the full acceptance of responsibility of the same. Even when unwell you have no one to tend to you. No, it isn't me who is strong."

I was silent. I had never thought of things in this manner. 
She continued "I find it easier to bury my wishes rather than stand up for them. I have never known life any other way. I know I am weak but the thought of being on my own scares me, so much that I would rather put up with my so-called ungrateful family. It is easier to toe the line than cross the line."
"I don't know about that. But I do know that had I been in your place I would have left my husband and his family. I would never have had this strength of endurance".

We left it at that. She went off to buy groceries and I went to the bank.

But we didn't leave it at that. At least I couldn't. A little talk is all it took for me to see a different perception of strength.  The thresholds of endurance differ so drastically. Or is it something that we perceive to be demanded of us as the situation arises?

One needs strength to confess and strength also to build a fortress around emotions ... Strength to stand alone and strength to seek support ... Strength to take your own decisions and strength to follow someone else's decision ... Strength to hold on and strength to let go ...

I am probably an ant as well. What others may see as strength is something I do out of necessity rather than choice. Because if given a choice I guess I would prefer being weak.